


Stockpiled Mistakes

by ChiaRoseKuro



Series: SINning is Winning [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Introspection, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Songfic, There aren't enough SIN fics out there, even if it's just sadness and angst haha, it's really just Itachi-centric tbh, the SasuNaru's basically implied, who knows if this is even supposed to be E
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 00:59:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9297245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiaRoseKuro/pseuds/ChiaRoseKuro
Summary: Itachi has always been rational, level-headed and in control, so why does a phone call from Sasuke make him emotional, befuddled and impulsive? (Answer: it had always been Sasuke. And maybe Naruto, to some extent.)( alternately, Sasuke and Naruto have fun, Itachi does not, and the author needs to stop looping songs for eight hours straight )





	

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering why I'm not updating _Word Play_ , it's not that I've given up on it- it's just that writing block has struck and I'm really quite uncomfortable with how I've built the chapter so far. There's nearly not enough sexual tension in there to do the next chapter justice, which is not what I had in mind. Rambling aside, though, I've always wondered what Itachi's role is in SIN (especially when I'm more of a hardcore SasuNaru shipper, myself) and the Itachi here is channelling my insecurities, if you will. Also, angst and introspect are my bread and butter. Fluff and SoL, not so much. This was also meant to be a drabble... but, as you can see, I cannot drabble and can only waffle at length.
> 
> There is one masturbation scene in here but I don't know if it constitutes as Explicit or Mature, so I rated it E to be on the safe side. If you're not comfortable with mentions of incest, homosexuality, polyamory and anything to do with SIN then why did you click on this fic? Press that 'back' button before you disappoint yourself and rain on my parade; I wrote this to be self-indulgent, so I don't want to cop any flak for it.
> 
> Special thanks to hitorie's [Imperfection](http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x3i7f8a) for providing the fic's title and for inspiring me to write this; without it, I would not have been compelled to torture Itachi. I'd highly recommend listening to it as you read; it captures the mood perfectly with its [lyrics](http://onsenmanjukun.tumblr.com/post/136230420351/imperfection-hitorie-english-lyrics) and wowaka's singing.

* * *

 

_“I won’t be home until tomorrow, Itachi,”_ Sasuke says, voice soft despite the tinny, pounding music filtering through. _“The moron needs someone to keep him out of jail at the rate that he’s drinking.”_

“I suppose he won’t listen to reason, will he?” With a faint sigh, Itachi rakes a hand through his loosely-bound hair and casts a baleful look at the phone, before he shakes his head a little wearily. “Don’t drink too much yourself, little brother.”

_“Stop worrying, I’ll handle everything just fine,”_ is the last thing he hears before Sasuke ends the call.

A finger comes to rub at the creases in his brow as Itachi sighs again, leaning further back into the armchair and setting the phone on the ottoman. It’s been the third time in a week that Sasuke’s called to say he’d be back in the morning, all for Naruto’s sake and all cutting across pre-arranged plans between the two brothers. Passing his theatre tickets to a colleague had been easy enough– Konan never refused an opportunity to watch a good Shakespearean play– and cancelling their reservation wasn’t a hassle, but…

It had nothing to do with the mild inconvenience his younger brother had given to third parties. Itachi would have nothing to worry over if Sasuke had been busy with work; being a businessman involved just as much time and effort as being a self-employed lawyer did, if not more. Handling pressure from outside sources was second nature for the sons of affluent entrepreneurs, men who had grown up with the spotlight on them more often than not. There were often times when one of Itachi’s cases required more work or when one of Sasuke’s meetings ran overtime, so it was normal. Expected, even, for them to brush off family time for work demands.

Brushing off family time for late-night clubbing, though?

Even if Sasuke hadn’t been the uptight and non-social person that he was…

Unfolding himself from his seat, Itachi scoops the phone into his hand and sets it back into its cradle. He watches the screen flash for a brief moment, mouth drawing into a thin line when its cheerful glow subsides, but his feet pull him away before long. A few whispered steps, and the soft carpet beneath his feet give way to cool marble tiles.

In silence, Itachi shrugs off his clothing and steps into his shower.

At first, Itachi had been amused by Sasuke’s passionate and unrestrained hatred for the loud-mouthed relative of his most affluent client; pleased, even, by the way his younger brother’s cold features would burn fiery-hot whenever he spoke of Naruto. He’d taken the opportunity to foster the relationship, relishing the outpouring of irritation and impotent rage for a man who had effortlessly drawn Sasuke out from his icy shell. The photos he had seen of Naruto had brought to mind a pleasant, if not enthusiastic, young man, but five minutes in their presence was enough to change his impressions.

The corners of Itachi’s lips turn up slightly as he immerses himself in the memories, eyes sliding closed with the soft pitter-patter of water against his face. How naïve had he been; how _stupid_ for ignoring the obvious. His fingers tighten in his hair at the recollection of angry blue eyes and disdainful black ones, but with a hiss he unclenches his hands and continues lathering.

How had he not noticed the sparks in their eyes back then?

Warmth that has nothing to do with the shower trickles down Itachi’s cheeks. With visible effort– not that anyone will see him or notice, of course– he pries his teeth from his lower lip, tongue soothing the metallic sting they leave behind.

The taste is enough to bring to mind the split lip Sasuke had come home with, the first time he and Naruto had stopped arguing and started punching.

Itachi had been so sure that Sasuke ruined the first true friendship he’d ever had, in the moments when he’d dabbed at cuts and fussed over his bruised hands. He’d thought that the volatile flames which ignited his connection with Naruto had turned ugly, uglier than he had predicted and could ever predict. There had been bitter words bandied, terse silences lingering, hard glares thrown.

And now…

It’s not hard for Itachi to imagine how things will go. Naruto is not a person who strikes him as having much self-control, if the way he laughs and talks endlessly is anything to go by, and it would likely apply to drinking. Competitive as he and Sasuke are, it wouldn’t be a hard stretch to believe that one would try and drink the other under the table. Sasuke was, is and always will be an emotional and impulsive drunk, prone to decisions he’d profess to lament but secretly enjoyed, and Naruto with alcohol…

Unheeding of the soap, Itachi digs the heels of his hands into his eyelids and growls lowly.

Friends. He had been so sure, so _certain_ that they would become good friends, bickering and snarking aside. A choked noise, less of a laugh than anything else, tears itself from his throat as he imagines what they must be doing now– drinking together, laughing together, _being_ together.

It’s in times like these that Itachi hates his rationality and his control, but what of his imagination? Stopping himself from taking what he’d wanted for years was one thing, but imagining what he could’ve had, what he couldn’t have– it’s a good thing that nobody can see his red-rimmed eyes, _that’s_ for sure.

Yet acknowledging it and actively working on it are two entirely different things, which is why Itachi’s mind brings forth images he wants no part in, but gets to see anyway. Golden lashes, half-closed over clouded blue eyes. Swollen lips with soft indents, pale skin faintly flushed from a lack of air. Tousled hair, rumpled shirts, breaths reeking of alcohol and fogged with lust.

Itachi squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead against smooth tiles, but the bathroom’s walls do nothing to cool him down.

Without conscious thought, a hand drifts up from where it’s hanging by his side and curls around his cock, coaxing a soft hiss from bite-swollen lips. The thought that Sasuke might make the exact same noise when Naruto gets him off only makes it twitch in his grasp, precum spitting out from the motion. Itachi breathes shallowly through his nose and cracks one eye open to glare down, seeing his cock twitch again at his scrutiny, but he huffs out another faint sigh and, tellingly, leaves his hand there.

If he must torture himself with what could’ve been and what couldn’t be– then surely, _surely_ , he’s allowed to have this much.

It’s not like anyone’s looking, after all.

A puff of air slips past Itachi’s lips as his thumb presses into his slit, precum dribbling out around his blunt nail. He traces fingers along a vein in his cock as he worries his lower lip with his teeth, mind drifting to images of a slender, paler hand sliding along his length instead. What starts off as another heavy breath becomes a stuttered moan when he sees a wickedly bright grin seared onto the back of his eyelids, and it doesn’t take long for his other hand to rub against the weeping head as the first trails fire, alternating between fast and slow and tight and loose.

He can almost feel Sasuke’s weight pressed against his back, Naruto’s calloused fingers playing with his balls. He can almost hear their aroused noises– soft pants and muted moans from his younger brother, unrestrained but equally pleasured sounds from his younger brother’s best friend– and it drives him _insane_. The groan that drops from Itachi’s lips is the most depraved sound he has ever made in his life, but it doesn’t stop his palm from rubbing harshly against his sensitive head.

When his mind finally delivers the timbre of Sasuke’s voice, low and breathy as he tells Itachi to cum—

When he imagines it’s Naruto’s tongue flicking against his over-sensitized slit, instead of his finger—

What starts off as Sasuke’s name morphs into Naruto’s and then absolute nonsense as Itachi’s mouth drops open. White splatters the tiles as his hand flies over his cock to milk out his orgasm for all it’s worth, until the only sound he can hear is the pitter-patter of water and his harsh, laboured breaths.

It’s not until he begins shivering that Itachi realizes the water’s gone cold and that his fingertips are wrinkled from the time he’s spent inside. Cursing softly under his breath, he rinses the soap suds clinging to his body and watches them swirl down the drain with his semen. By the time he dries himself off, he can only smell the light scent of his conditioner and body wash.

By the time he pads into the living room, freshly-dried hair tied into its usual low tail, Itachi’s ready to check his email for his clients’ replies and do something, _anything_ , to take his mind off his momentary lapse in judgement. There will be no wandering thoughts about his younger brother with his best friend, what they will do when they’ve inevitably drunk themselves silly and when Sasuke will stagger home tomorrow.

(but when he sleeps, it’s Sasuke’s high cheekbones and Naruto’s soft hair at the forefront of his mind)

(he can’t even bring himself to hate how he loves one or the other or even both of them, together)

**Author's Note:**

> If you _really_ wanted to date this, it's either set years before _Word Play_ or it's in an entirely different reality; I'm not too sure yet. I may write a continuation, but if I do then it'll likely be announced on my [main blog](http://chiarosekuro.tumblr.com/), seeing as I can't maintain that and a writing sideblog anymore.


End file.
